Dance
by Amazyrak
Summary: Major AU Storyline. The founders were exiled to the wastelands of "Hogwarts." Now years later Slytherin has monopolized the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff territories. When Harry at 16 is selected as the first Griffindor ambassador to Hogwarts School/Embassy after at least a decade he thinks it will be fun. Ahh Harry, why must you turn the universe on its head? Full Sum. Inside. DMxHP
1. Chapter 1

_This story DOES NOT actually take place in the founders time. This is Harry-centric but I wanted to establish the AU.  
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_Ahem. Yes well, my first AU storyline. This is only the introduction, and I never go into much good writing detail in the introduction; as such this chapter is just to get the foundation started and not my actual writing style. I would definitely do chapters a bit longer than this and slightly more detail oriented. Definitely more dialogue in the next chapters as well. The full summery is at the bottom of the page, since it includes several ideas for the next chapter.  
_

I, Amazyrak, do not own the Harry Potter Fandom, only this story. The writing is my own.

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**Dance  
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**Wasteland to Rain**

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_"Dance, when you're broken open. Dance, if you've torn the bandage off. Dance in the middle of the fighting. Dance in your blood. Dance when you're perfectly free."_

_― Rumi_

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**_I_ _s__olemnly__ swear that I _**_ **am**** up to no good.**_

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The people of the magical world were once told that the land of Hogwarts was a waste to try and inhabit; that it could not be host to _civilized _life. They were told that the ground was too dry, that it would not abide sustainable crops. They were told that the animals were too wild; they would not allow human intruders to their home. They were told that the conditions were too harsh, and that the sun would burn away the skin of the peoples. The peoples were told to fear bush land, to run away from the untamed, for it was too hard for the likes of them. And so the peoples listened. They left the bush lands and they abandoned their nascent settlements. One by one the people left their abodes, and dreams of a new start, until only four were left. Only four people, abandoned to die by the decree of the masses whose jealousy ruled the government at that time.

Each was alone in their respective worlds, and each had nothing but the land that was to be their prison. At first, all alone but their pride, none of the four would even speak to another. The times then were harsh, as the animals and conditions ebbed at the dwindling life force of the four. It seemed that all was lost, and it didn't matter how cliché that sounded. But after a month of near death, it was a woman by the name of Helga Hufflepuff who demanded her peers to stand together.

Helga was a rather kind woman; she would have been a keen housewife if given a chance. She was cheerful, hardworking, loyal, fierce, and had the most optimistic outlook imaginable about life. It was a wonder how, even when there was little water to drink, Helga could smile and thank the sun for its glorious rays that kept her from chill. Though the others thought her mad, Helga only smiled her cracking and parched lips to whisper "It could be worse."

It was early September by the old British calendar, not that it mattered much in Hogwarts, when sweet Helga demanded the ragtag group of stragglers to band together against the climate. It was just after a sandstorm in the desert portion of the lands and they were all attempting to cough up what they could of the grainy substance before they died of asphyxiation. Rowena had been complaining as usual about the lack of shade and books when she said what would be (to Helga) a rather brilliant idea.

"My home, back at the college, would _never_ have let these storms even _touch _me. Any home at all, in any _civilized_ land would never let such winds rip at the clothes of a noble lady." The words were venomous, scandalized, and sounded as if Rowena had been out of her Ravenclaw college for no more than an hour, instead of the actual months. Helga at the time had shaken her head in fond exasperation, Rowena would forever be the pampered princess thirsty only for knowledge and comfort.

Godric had chuckled in amusement, before he pursed his lips, looking for any sign of an oasis in the arid desert. Salazar had scowled and readjusted the prototype head-wrap he was designing to keep the sand and sun out of his face. Both reactions were so very like the two lords that Helga only just kept in a giggle. Her golden hair twirled in a passing breeze and Rowena glared at the strands now glinting in the sun like mirrored thread. Rowena's own brown locks hung low in her face, calm and perfectly contained.

Helga sighed and tied down her hair with a strip of cloth she had ripped out of her petticoats her first day out in the elements. Rowena's words were slowly sneaking into her heart, hitting her harder than could be intended.

Home, it wasn't a foreign concept to Helga. She had a loving family and rather spacious living accommodations once. But that had been back in England, a place so far from where they were now. Was the concept of home even the same here? Lady Hufflepuff just couldn't see the lavish mansions and royal gardens in the current setting, but perhaps something more humble would do just as well. It didn't matter much; all that was needed was a place for the four to settle.

It was then that Helga had one of her more brilliant ideas. The land around her was arid and seemingly incapable of yielding life, but the lands about the continent were diverse and of many types. The four had never stayed in one place before, each had too different preferences, and the dangers had been too high. But could it be possible to inhabit this barren place?

To the north there was a small range of high mountains, rocky spindles that were inaccessible without intense carving, but they were flocked by Eagles, Wyverns, and Rocs. The stones were also rich in ores needed for arcane enchantments. An ocean too salty to drink had crashed upon the towering rocks. The place screamed of Rowena's lofty attitude, but Godric had found it too confining. The rest of the group had agreed. The East laid host to a rather rocky terrain as well, but on a much larger scale. There were cliffs like the northern territory, but the earth was far more fertile and hospitable to several species of trees and rare grasses. Amphisbaenas, Acromantulas, and the occasional Runespoor infested the crevices and burrowed tunnels of the formation. Salazar had struck up conversation with the snakes immediately, but the rest of the group thought the dark corridor mazes of unknown origins fearsome. The desert area that the four currently trekked through, Helga found rather refreshing, if not unbearably hot and dry; it had potential to support an oasis. Irrigate some water, and there would be banks upon banks of greenery. There would be much work to do on it, but there would be a great profit. Pity the others didn't see her way/ There was a rather wonderful piece of land down south as well; it had looked to be flatland. A pack of Nundu had chased the group away however, and though Godric had sworn he saw an Alce devouring several Achlis, Salazar had needed to be treated for a Tebo horn wound and so the group retreated. The group had evaded that area despite Godric's pleas for exploration. It was dangerous, stupid Griffindors!

Helga shook her head to clear the thoughts of her idiotic friend. She was thinking about a home, not finding a way to instill a little humility into Godric. There had to be some way to find a place for a village. They were _witches and wizards_ for Merlins sake, not simple buffoons. Though their wands had been broken when the magical community spurned them, the magic was still there, latent perhaps, but there. Helga's eyes narrowed against the rising winds of yet another sandstorm, wastelands be damned, she would have her makeshift family seen to safety and comfort!

Salazar dully noted that Helga was not someone to piss off. Women were determined, single minded, and downright scary when angered.

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**I HATE TIME SKIPS, THEY GET SO CONFUSING. WHY ARE THEY SO NECESSARY SOME TIMES?**

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Godric let out a low whistle, surveying his handiwork. He did good. Flexing his muscles a little in show (though no one was there to witness) Godric's red hair whipped fiercely as he hit the ground, palms down. The ground rumbled underneath him, and a grin seeped its way into his face as the remaining rubble pushed itself into a staircase. Rowena really was a genius for thinking of carving runes into the body. It had been horribly painful, and it was only Godric's sheer tenacity that allowed his body to accept the changes, but the end product was well worth it. Pity Rowena refused to do any more carving or teach how to do the carvings, but Godric understood.

They had been desperate, Helga's proposal had come and the four agreed, but they hadn't expected for Britain to start sending their criminals here. They had just found the opportune site when a league of bandit murderers had attacked their small encampment. Godric had needed all the strength he could muster. It was only dumb luck that the chosen space was only meters away from an Eloko nest that didn't take kindly to non-magical entities encroaching on their land so far into the night. Godric had to say though, he felt sorry for the bastards, murdering scum-bags though they were. The angry little chieftain of the spirits was vicious with the supposed intruders to arcane sanctuary. He had severed the limbs, cooked the blood, and fed the meat to his young-lings. Gave a mean lecture to the four wizards too. Though he almost talked Godric's ear off, but he did have excellent advice. It was that little grandpa looking man that first welcomed the four to Hogwarts and bestowed upon them the title of "Founders." Ruddy cliche if you asked Godric.

None of that mattered now though. There was only the land, perfect for building, and the mix of escaping magicals and criminals. It seemed that Britain had gone bonkers and started something called "witch burnings" which drove society out and into the slowly growing capitol of Hogsmeade. Every month or so, a new bloke or wench would make their way off the boat alive and eventually wander into the township. It was doing well.

The grounds for the town were of hard rock, partially blocked off from the raging sandstorms of the desert area Helga had decided to name "The Sett." Apparently it was some reference to an animal she found thriving out there (Badger or somthin',) but Godric had never cared much for things like that. The town was rather tough to handle, but Helga had started a bit of gardening out back, and Rowena was bustling about ordering the newcomers to set up some sort of house building plan. Godric himself was using his brute strength and power to finish up that water reserve Rowena had insisted they needed for the town.

Really, all was going well...except for one thing. Salazar. It wasn't that he hadn't been working lately, he was devoting much time into planning and ideas for manufacture, but Sal seemed...contemplative and rather apprehensive, as he watched the going ons of the village. It worried Godric, though he did see what Salazar was fretting about. The people seemed divided and each fraction followed one of the Founders. The loyal, hardworking type looked up to Helga.  
Those who sought knowledge loved Rowena. Salazar drew those with silver tongues,businessmen, politicians, players, and thieves. Godric himself had quite the following, all those brave of heart, pure of soul, unknowing of sin, and never fearing death. Well, that's how he liked to define his band. Salazar and Rowena called them "Brash, unthinking, ignorant, and foolhardy," Helga just smiled and nodded to everyone.

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**THIS IS KIND OF A TIME SKIP**

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The meeting had gone as well as could have been expected, given the topic. Godric, Helga, and Rowena had tried to argue at his points, but could come up with nothing to counter. Of course they couldn't, he was right. The people were divided, none wanting to give up their business and values for the common. To try and force the matter would end in civil war, pit brother against brother, and Salazar against the rest of his acquaintances. He would not give his life up for them, not when he only just found it once again. The light, joyous, feeling the rest of the Founders shared at the prospect of unity did not extend to him. He would not, could not, surrender his rights as an individual for the common. It just wasn't Salazar. Yet, he couldn't bring himself to declare absolute separation. His forces were too little, his families too weak. It was to be expected, they were a new people, but it irked him that his snakes (as he had taken to calling them) would not be able to be themselves under the combined administration of the three other territories. It was human nature to push away what you fear. What would keep the progeny of the rest of the founders from vilifying his descendents?

It had been this line of thought that had brought Salazar to the meeting room earlier that day. He proposed a separation into provinces, united only by an embassy to discuss the more important issues. Each territory would be able to send heirs to the governing body or representatives to the embassy to meet and know the other lands.

"Such would bring unity, while not forcing equalization" Salazar had argued. Helga had sighed and Salazar had known the battle to be won. Charters and contracts, declarations and regulations were haggled and fought over. At the end of a long month. The Lord Slytherin rode to the newly named "Snake Pit" and never looked back.

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**_Finish. _**_Ok so, decent? This only was supposed to create the universe. I have the full plot summery, it does include some factors that hint at the content of the next chapter, but it's all the basics. This summery is also on my profile._

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Godric, Helga, Rowena, and Salazar got exiled to a wasteland composite of desert, mountains, and African bush-country. Hogwarts is the name of the land, and there are four territories. Hufflepuff, "The Sett" is in the desert and they have underground gardens of a sort (think Dune.) Ravenclaw land "The Nest" is the ports, jagged spire rocks are towers for the higher classed thinkers, this place had ores needed for the making of magical items. Slytherin "The Pits" are tunnels carved by unknown previous inhabitants in a mountain cliff-side and not only has a monopoly of the more dangerous herbs but, in accordance to the stereotypical behavior of Slytherin, has a long breeding program of snakes for potions and poisons. Griffindor "The Den" is like an African Safari, only more dangerous. There are huge families of dangerous magical creatures everywhere, but the Griffindors brave the beasts and live in a more tribal lifestyle. Hogwarts Castle is the Embassy for all four lands, each is supposed to send their leaders and/or heirs and/or representatives to take part in political dealings. Griffindor hasn't for a decade or so. In the Lions absence the Slytherins have taken over both Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff, controlling trade and resources. The Griffindors are rather happy in their ignorance, while the snakes see Griffindor as nothing but a land of barbarians. Because of certain circumstances, Harry is going to Hogwarts Castle. Ahh Harry, why must you turn the world upside down?

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_**DracoxHarry?** I haven't written this pairing before. I hope I do well! The more you review the faster I will update. I will also bake you cookies. I cannot promise that I will send you cookies, but I will bake them for you. _Review!


	2. Chapter 2

**Well I'm rather offended, only 24 views so far. I might as well put this up now though. Perhaps there will be more to come.**

**I need more ideas as to how this plot will go. Just ponder what you want to happen while you read this.  
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I never really imagine Draco looking like Tom Felton. So here is a drawing I found that looks more like my image of Draco, its not too much different. static . zerochan Draco . Malfoy . full . 1205342 . jpg Just take out the spaces.

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**Dance**

**Chapter One**

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Black waters of the lake crashed against the shoreline, scaring a young girl clad in a long canary yellow tunic and headscarf. Draco scoffed, new Hufflepuffs always balked at open water sources. One would think that, since their territory was centered around underground rivers, they would be more graceful in avoiding the water spray. It was disgraceful to jump and screech at such occurrences, Draco couldn't believe that _this_ was the new Sett delegation. She would only be too easy to manipulate to his whims. Badgers always were.

It wasn't like Draco _needed_ to use any subtle manipulation of course. He was Slytherin heir, and therefore Hogwarts heir in every way excepting the official channels. He could snap his fingers and that girl, along with many others, would run to cater to his whims. It never hurt to be in the practice of seducing everyone though; it was a matter of pride that Malfoys never got rusty.

His long legs swung over the bark of the low tree branch he had been napping on and Draco dropped the last several feet to the ground. The unzipped torso of his robes shifted as his hands made their way into the pockets of his trousers. Out of sight, his fingers flexed, stopping yet another bout of lake spray. The girl in yellow looked around, confused, at the stopping of her attack. Draco eyed her figure, wet from the impromptu showers, but simply conjured a blanket to drop onto her shoulders. He could practically see the hearts forming in her eyes at his nonchalant attitude at her state of modesty, taking the situation as Draco being gentlemanly and a chaste sort of person. In other words a prime example of what the Hufflepuff ideal was - kind, modest, thoughtful, and polite. Fresh meat were always so entertainingly innocent in that way; but why would he, _Draco Malfoy_, care for one scrawny girl as anything other than a prize when he had concubines and catamites literally throwing themselves onto the floor to lick his feet?

This was not voiced however as the female swooned at a flash of an aristocratic "politics" smile. Charming, and most importantly, disarming, that was the smile that every Slytherin worth their pound of flesh knew, that was the smile that every badger Draco had ever met had fallen for. But maybe that could be blamed on Draco, and not just his smile.

And what was there not to fall for? Even for all his faults, Draco was an almost perfect model of a leader, friend, lover, and son. He was a bit egotistical perhaps, but with his looks he deserved to be, and yet he was not unkind or derogatory to the people he knew and respected. He was rather brash in dealing with infuriating situations, but that was simply his control issues and that same hotheadedness was easily countered by a softly placed reassuring hand in comfort. His skill in dueling was unsurpassed by any of his generation, as was his wit. Even in political power, with his father as High Lord of Slytherin and of the primary circle of the Hogwarts Confederation of Governors, Draco had won the genetic lottery.

So really, it came as no surprise as the shy newcomer for the Sett province was reduced to a gibbering and blushing mass of hormones in the face of one such as Draco. It was nothing new, nothing special, only another conquest. Draco didn't bother to even listen to the stammered name of introduction, simply guided the woman to the Slytherin dorm wing. Just another empty face in his bed, just another warm body to pass the time.

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Swirling fabrics and furs, soft tapping of bare feet upon the stone and grass, Harry smiled languidly as he downed another Ikaki bane to battle the rushing of his head. The scent of sweet fruit drifted around Harry from the swaying tops of the Ackee trees, rooted into the grounds of Godric's Hollow. Harry watched the crackling bonfire, radiating brightly despite the imminent dawn. The people danced, legs pounding a steady beat from the earth, around the flames. The wraps of the bodies fluttering and waving in a tangled mass of flesh.

As Harry distanced himself further from the festivities, he couldn't help but trace the etchings of his sword in nervous habit. A sigh racked his frame, but the throb of drums and titter of flutes faded somewhat as his feet led him off the battered path, giving the scarce greenery a sense of peaceful slumber. The light emitted from the fire was past his sight now, and Harry looked up to the dyed pink sky. The groves of his home, the Lions Den as it was so fondly called, were growing impatient. It may not have seemed like much to most, but Harry knew. The feeling Harry had vaguely reminded him of the kind of ill omen the hermit soothsayer Sibyl would whisper to him whenever Harry visited her abode. Even more frightening, it reminded him of the feeling he got when he was around his parents grave.

It was misery, that feeling. A warning, that misery had or will come. His godfather felt it too, Harry was sure. Yet Sirius was too frightened to face the world with all its misery. He was too enclosed in the world of depression to scent the rising storm. It wasn't that Sirius was a fearful man, only haunted. Haunted by the phantoms of Harry's parents, and the traitor known by the name of Peter Pettigrew. It was Pettigrew's betrayal and murder of tribe members that made Sirius hide. He blamed himself. Harry wished that he was able to reassure Sirius that it wasn't his fault, that Sirius was still the best candidate for tribe leader, but 15 years after the event and 15 years of prosperous dealings, Sirius still doubted himself at every turn. Once even, he had attempted to pass the leadership to Harry, claiming it was his by birthright, but Harry had declined. Harry had even eventually taken the position of witchdoctor to negate whatever "claims" he had to the title of chief, but still Sirius worried and was hesitant in all decisions. It put much pressure on Harry's shoulders, 16 as he was, but to keep himself out of the spotlight, he would do it. And so Griffindor prospered.

Fingers ruffled Harry's already tousled head of ebony hair. Such a topic was too depressing for a night of celebrations, even the ending half of one. Harry's wanderings had brought him to an old Baobab, bearing a full harvest of fruit and leaves. He heaved himself up to a sturdy branch, climbing the odd knobs and grooves in that familiar way only accomplished by a native. The branches spread out, revealing a cocoon of sturdy wood, and Harry stretched himself across the expanse of bark. Relishing in such an embrace not often gifted to him, Harry dozed. The flutter of wings brought his attention to his owl, Hedwig, but when Harry reached for the letter tied to her leg with fine ribbon, she hopped away. Harry raised an eyebrow.

"Well why are you here with me when you've got a letter for someone else then girl?" Harry muttered. Hedwig hopped a little closer and stretched her head out to Harry. He snorted, but obliged her and scratched her head. Hedwig butted his hand and Harry shook his head. "Get on with it then, go find Padfoot, he's the one who borrowed you." Hedwig looked as dejected as an owl could look, but flew away towards the town. Harry adjusted his sword on his hip and laid down for a well deserved nap, thinking of nothing more than pretty songbirds and star fruit.

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When Draco woke up, he could see the bright noon sun streaming into his room by the large window displaying the the East mountain range, Slytherin territory and more commonly referred to as the Snake Pit. The body beside him groaned in protest as Draco moved, but Draco paid it no mind. He made a mildly disgusted face as he tromped over to the bathroom, a sick feeling on his skin. First times were always messy.

The shower was brief, but thorough. Draco only allowed himself a moment of searing heat before wrapping a towel around himself and entering back into the bed chamber. He noted that the girl was gone and the sheets were changed. The towel dropped to the ground carelessly and Draco dressed. Soft cotton and silks slid across his skin, but Draco barely noticed. He looked up, and scrutinized the figure in front of him. Draco blew a stand of hair out of his eyes and his image mirrored the action. He ran his palms back over his head, smoothing it back. Again his image complied. Draco flexed his muscles slightly.

"Hey Draco, did I just see Hannah Abbot coming out of your room?" Draco spun around, smoothing his shirt and acting for all the world like he was _not_ just making faces at himself in the mirror. Narrowing his eyes at the surprise visitor, Draco saw Blaise leaning into his doorway with an interested look pointed down the hall.

"Abbot...you mean the new Hufflepuff? I was showing her around" Draco replied flippantly, walking over to the doorway and Blaise. The other male scoffed at the answer.

"Sure Drake," Draco glared at the nickname, "I was just coming around to tell you that your father wants you in his office." Blaise stretched his back, Draco twitched at the loud pop. The darker haired boy blinked in surprise when Draco's cape hit him in the face on the way out.

"Coming Blaisey boy?" yelled Draco over his shoulder. His friend snorted, but jogged over to him. The two talked on their way to Lucius's office. The furious scratch of quill on parchment made Draco hesitant to knock on his father's door, and Blaise seemed to be of a like mind.

"...Think its a marriage contract?" Blaise whispered, voicing both boys fears. The other shrugged, trying to be as cool and collected as possible about the matter.

"Hope not." A dark hand creeped forward to the regal knocker, Draco stepped back from the door. No cause to anger his father if he was busy.

The heavy knock sounded rather ominous. Draco started to panic. What if it really was a marriage contract? He'd have to settle down, his life hadn't even gotten good yet. Marriage had only been a possible consequence before, something their parents teased them about, or held over their heads if they didn't do something. It would mean disaster to Draco's social life if he had to "tie the knot," as his mother put it. Though it didn't outwardly show, Draco fretted at the possibility.

It was only the opening creak of the heavy oaken door and Blaise's nervous shuffle away that clued Draco to the fact that his father had beckoned them in. He gulped. Draco could almost hear the funeral march behind him as he walked up to the figure of his father, imposing even sitting at a desk; actually, it might have been because of the desk. Lucius certainly seemed the evil mastermind he was often portrayed as behind the gleaming mahogany of the wide rectangular desk. His shirt was clean pressed, his eyes sharp, and his hand resting comfortably on the ebony of his cane. When his father gestured for him to sit, Draco had to forcibly slow the lowering of his body, as not to seem frightened.

Blaise slid in behind Draco and shut the door behind him. Standing at the doorway like a frightened but curious puppy, the attempts at subtle information gathering failed miserably. The younger Malfoy grumbled at his companions figurative perked ears and wagging tail, but Lucius looked amused behind his cold mask. Clearing his throat, Lord Malfoy stood and straightened his papers on the table. He had both of the younger men's undivided attention immediately. The manicured nails and long hair of the Malfoy patriarch rested on the front of the table, his body assuming a relatively relaxed position.

Lucius hid a smirk at his sons state. "Draco," he drawled. Draco couldn't suppress a figit, Lucius looked as if he was carefully choosing his words. "The establishment of Hogwarts Castle, thousand or more years ago, was meant to bring into joining the peoples of what was once the wasteland Hogwarts. You know this well, do you not?"

The mercury eyes of Draco blinked slowly, considerately. "It has been taught since I was only a boy, Father." The answer was purposefully ambiguous, sparing Draco any future discomfort for if his father had called the meeting about some historical discrepancy or the like. His father nodded in a relatively proud way before trekking on.

"It has come to my attention that this...embassy is missing something." The worried expression on Draco's face became confused.

"With all due respect Father, what are _we_ missing?" The tone was more than a little incredulous and Lucius tsked at his son, Draco blushed.

The black hide of Lucius's boots clicked as he moved to pace slowly. "Yes, missing. Even if not officially, Slytherin does control most of the continent." Draco was nodding slightly, not quite grasping where his father was going with this. "Every bit but one." Lucius turned to a map on the wall. "The Griffindor province has not sent delegation to Hogwarts Castle for over a decade, and more importantly; there are no trade agreement between us, despite the profitable business we _could_ acquire." There was a dramatic pause that Draco was sure was intentional, perhaps to emphasize the affronted tone Lucius sported, and both Draco and Blaise gulped despite themselves. They were starting to think they knew where this was going. "I have sent a demand for representation and the Lions have grudgingly _indulged_ us." Draco knew he needed to resist the overwhelming urge to squirm. "Draco, you are to find some way of opening relations with the Griffindors. I don't care if you have to duel, charm, blackmail, or seduce, just get it done." The smirk now on Lucius' face was undeniable now. Draco used all his composure on repressing the need to groan or whine... "Oh and Zabini, you help to."

The look on Blaise's face was almost worth the torment of dealing with barbarians.

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**Done with this chapter! Anyone willing to help me feed my plot bunnies are welcomed. Fun fun fun. Tell me what you want to happen.  
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**Reviewing gives you endorphins. Endorphins make you happy. Happy people just don't kill their husbands. They just don't!  
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**Show your support for new stories, review!  
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**I love each and every one of you, and I don't care how creepy it is. Bye bye for now!  
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	3. Chapter 3

******Hey yall! (If there is a you all, there'vebeen no reviews so I really don't know.) This is my first AU storyline, have fun I guess.**

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**I, Amazyrak, do not own the Harry Potter franchise or fandom, only this story. The writing is my own.**

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**Dance**

**Chapter 2**

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It was afternoon when the baboon Harry had named Rafiki decided to kick the intruder out of his tree. The pain of that awakening was rather throbbing, but at least Harry wouldn't get bruises, or worse. You never knew when it came to Rafiki and his odd collection of turtle shells. The jolt of jumping down from so high off the ground sent a momentary flare of pain up the joint of Harry's knee. The rather constricting pants he wore didn't allow for the movement of a proper examination, but Harry figured he strained a tendon or other such nonsense. The slight limp Harry started to walk with, down the path and back to the village entrance, was only noticeable to the smug baboon up in the tree.

Trudging back to the Hollow's gates, it Harry vaguely wondered if he had gotten back late enough to exempt him from clean up duty. Mrs. Weasley had made her kota at last nights celebrations, and no one should have to suffer cleaning the grounds after Ron once he had curry. The thought made Harry dry retch a little, there was no sense of decorum _ever_ with Ron. The spikes of the wooden fence came into sight, now shut tight without the fires and party noise warding predators off. He heaved a great sigh and looked morosely up the wall. He figured that he was probably going to get stuck in a bog of trouble for this, but still a smile crept up Harry's face.

His long fingers clenched the spikes on a relatively high section of wall, rubbing the dirt off where he gripped. With a quick look around, Harry smirked and started to climb. The points of several outcroppings snagged at his shirt, but he simply tugged the fine red fabric away and hopped up a few more spikes. The feel of the wood beneath his feet, and the sight of ever falling ground sped up his heart and gave him a sense of euphoria. The rhythm of grabbing and jumping up soothed Harry as he fell into a comforting pattern. The top of the patrol walkway began to come closer as the spikes fell away from his field of vision, one by one with a single-minded goal. He reached the top with a huff of triumph. The wind whipped in his hair, cooling his brow, the sun felt so right on his face, he closed his eyes to enjoy the moment and...

"HARRY! Get your skinny arse down here, right now mister, Sirius wants you in his tent." The silence was broken, Harry looked down at a giant living tangle of fluffy curls.

"Right now Hermione?" The head of fluff bounced aggressively. Harry couldn't stop a mischievous grin. "Give me 5 seconds." He took two steps back and then propelled himself off the walkway. The frantic scream from Hermione below and the feeling of free fall caused a grin to erupt on Harry's face. He grabbed the trunk of the Jackalberry planted just off the main road, sliding down with a twist of smooth motion and hopped over to Hermione. Her cheeks were flushed and eyes blown wide.

"Whats my time?" Harry asked with a smirk. Hermione flushed further and whacked the laughing teen upside the head. Said teen ducked his head bashfully before mumbling, "Keep doing that and I'll be even more mentally deficient than usual." This brought a laugh to Hermione's face. Harry shook his head and, mission accomplished, skipped past his friend. He waved a hand over his shoulder in a goodbye gesture before heading over to the area he knew Sirius to be.

The red and gold painted cottage was bright and overly cheerful, reflecting its owner; today though there was a rather tense air about it. Harry hesitated at the wood of the door. Sirius was never even pensive. At the very least, he never showed it. Harry raised his fist, which was furled more tightly than he was willing to admit, and placed it gently on the door in a sort of a not-knock. He hesitated, there was just a bad feeling around all of this. Harry's teeth worried into his bottom lip, but he shook the tension away. With a confidence as fake as Mundungus' "all-affliction herbal remedies" Harry took a deep breath and knocked loud and steady.

It was barely a second until the door swung open to the face of Harry's godfather. Sirius looked flustered and nervous, the confidence that was previously giving Harry a floating untouchable feeling deflated.

"Sirius...Hermione said you wanted me?" Harry asked, unsure. He didn't know what to say. He'd never been at a loss for words around his godfather before but the entire aura Sirius gave off forced Harry into uncertainty.

Sirius shifted, looking guilty. "You'd better get in Prongslet." Harry hesitated, confused. Sirius left the door open as he stumbled back inside the house. The younger of the two men wrinkled his nose in disgust. The interior smelled of ale. Hedwig hooted on the window still; Harry absentmindedly stroked her feathers and rubbed the spot along her neck that she liked.

"Do you know whats up with Padfoot Hedwig?" came a murmur. There was no response, but Harry hadn't expected one. He sighed and made himself comfortable on the only throw rug in the otherwise scarcely decorated room. Sirius walked in with two ales and gave one to Harry, the younger couldn't help raised eyebrow. Sirius never allowed him alcohol. In fact, over the years Harry had, in more than a few ways, become the baby girl Sirius had always wanted to dote upon. The inability for Sirius to reproduce anymore, and the availability of an unfortunately feminine god-son? Harry wished that somehow, he would grow taller, or bulk up more. His _actual _gender was ignored most of the time when Sirius was in a good mood, and so Harry remained virginal with almost everything. It had taken forever for Sirius to even allow Harry the option of sword training, and even now when Harry was one of the best warriors, he was never to be taken on hunts. Being placed in any sort of permanently harming danger, being in or _near_ romantic relations, and coming within a foot of alcohol were the major three things that Harry was never allowed to do. It was certainly a cause for panic when Sirius actually gave alcohol to Harry.

The swirling liquor was ominous in its own way, the froth spiraling and pulling Harry into a debate of _why_. It wasn't like Sirius to get wasted, like the stench of the house proved he had been doing lately. It wasn't like him to _not_ actively keep Harry innocent and naive. Most importantly, it wasn't like Sirius to fret. It made Harry anxious to see his godfather, his rock, his protector, in such disarray. He set his head against the dirt of the wall and waited for Sirius to come back.

It was a rather long wait, Harry swore that the rustling in the kitchen was just Sirius distracting himself so that he could delay talking to him. Though, it greatly confused him why. It was awkward shifting against the wall, but there was only a bed, fire pit, table, and thread-bare rug in the room. Eventually Sirius dragged himself back to the main chambers, but Harry paid him no mind. Sirius was still only twitching slightly, collecting his thoughts in a way that Harry knew was hard for someone of his attention span.

"My dear Harry." Sirius looked chocked up, as if this was hard to say. His voice came out in a whisper "My precious godson." The man shook his head and sat on the bed with a sigh. Harry remained silent. "I never wished for your life to take you down this road, for it is the path that has led many to their own destruction. But each day the inevitable comes closer, the contracts that our forefathers constructed demand our compliance. Social obligations have been left unattended for too long. Our village can hide in it's seclusion no longer."

Harry was confused, he reached out a hand to his godfather's side but it was pushed away. An unintelligible murmur ran through Harry's mouth unbidden. "Sirius..." The questioning voice had a distinct quality of loss and non-comprehension to it. The bottle in Sirius' hand began to be noticeably empty.

"The Hogwarts Embassy of Allied Territories has been sending requests for representation from the Lions of Griffindor for little over a decade now. I have declined hence-far, but the abstention from the '_diplomatic_' games does not agree with the political agenda." Here Sirius scowled fiercely and uncorked the neck of yet another ale. Harry didn't really see where all this was going, but silently got up and snatched the bottle from his godfather's hands. The older man halfheartedly tried to snatch it back, but Harry unceremoniously poured the drink out the open window. With a sigh, Sirius heaved himself up and walked to a stack of documents. He snatched the top, a letter, and held it out to Harry. Tentatively, Harry opened the heavy parchment. Elegant loops curved around each letter and the parchment itself was gilded in gold.

_To the Lord Proxy of Griffindor, Sirius Orion of the Black line,_

_It has been one year since the last request for delegation from the Noble land of Griffindor, and near two decades since the last Griffindor has graced the halls of Hogwarts Embassy. Even attempts for continued correspondence have been rejected and the peoples of the Allied Territories grow anxious with such lacking communication. Under the Hogwarts charter, drafted and finalized by the founders, each province must send representatives to council. This has not been met by the Griffindor peoples. There are no current records regarding schooling, law, or freedoms of the Griffindor province, which by the Territories' Treaty each citizen of Hogwarts is entitled to. Furthermore, under the Agreement of Founders, the aristocracy of each of the four lands must be sent to Hogwarts Castle to learn the workings of diplomacy and to ensure a standard education. This is another law that has been breached as of late only by the Griffindor peoples._

_By the law of Hogwarts, Griffindor is required to send delegation and representatives of the community to the castle. To create a balanced representation and to ensure the education of all lands, no less than 10 individuals under the age of 20 and no less than 2 over the age of 20 may answer this summons. This is the last warning that shall be issued. If the terms are not met with compliance than this will be taken as a declaration of war and Griffindor shall be declared traitorous to the country.  
_

_Sincerely,  
Lucius Malfoy  
Appointed spokesmen for the Committee of Representatives of the Allied Territories  
_

Harry looked up at his godfather, standing against the wall and looking broken.

"I'm going." The look on Harry's face was determined, resolute. Sirius nodded.

* * *

**This was really short. Ick. I have some people picked out for who I want to go, tell me if you want any others.**

** For Griffindor I have so far; ****Harry, Hermione, Ron, Fred, George, Neville, Ginny, Seamus, Dean, Lavender. And for the adults, McGonagall and Lupin. I am trying to make this sort of cannon in that Harry doesn't have direct access to Sirius. Sirius has to stay in Godrics Hollow, he's chief. **  


******For outside of Griffindor, I have obviously put in Hannah already, as well as Draco and Blaise. Yes Blaise is kinda out of character, but I decided to make him slightly more friendly. Most people do. Since everyone is 16 in this instead of 11, Draco has grown up some, but he will still be his normal prat self.  
**

******I want to put in Luna (I adore her,) and I was going to mention a lot of others. Luna will play a relatively good sized part in the plot I think.  
**

******Concerning bashing, I _love_ to do this, however this is not a cannon story, (obviously.) This is AU and I can't exactly go off on how much of a jerk Ron was being in some of the books. I will attempt to put in the personalities of each, but making Ron/Hermione not Harry's friend would change the story from Harry Potter AU, to a book idea I decided to use the HP names in.**

* * *

******Now, _IMPORTANT THINGS._  
**

******Trying to incorporate brooms... Horses aren't native areas like Africa. Zebra's don't work logistically, they are genetically unable to be domesticated and ridden. It ruins the concept of a Zebra to have them ridden, in my opinion at least. What do you want me to do about that? Ideas, anyone?  
**

******Also, QUIDDITCH. I can still call it Quidditch, but I can't exactly make it on _brooms_. See above^. Anyone know any Medival-esqe games? Fencing is dueling, there's already a dueling club at Hogwarts. Jousting is one on one, not teams, also rather like fencing in a way. Again, ideas anyone?  
**

I love all of you, even if that's creepy. Though, really there's not many people reading this...**  
**


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